


Irrevocable

by lespritas (katharsis_spear)



Category: Spartacus Series (TV), Spartacus: Vengeance
Genre: F/M, Female Character of Color, Hurt/Comfort, Male Character of Color, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-16
Updated: 2013-07-16
Packaged: 2017-12-20 07:23:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/884558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katharsis_spear/pseuds/lespritas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She knew it was an inevitability. People like him moved on and others like her... stayed behind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Irrevocable

**Author's Note:**

> Post–Vengeance and Pre–War of the Damned.  
> Beta'd by QueenofaSwan

She knew it was inevitable; as irrevocable as the seasons changing and the sun rising and setting. And yet, the foreboding knowledge didn't prepare her for the acute pain that would imbed itself in her chest.  
  
Crixus, the Undefeated Gaul and the recently trusted general of King Spartacus, is starting to grow tired of her. He doesn't say it to her face—no, he would never. He feels too much unwarranted guilt. For that, she is thankful (she wouldn't know how to bear it if the words left his mouth). But something's changed and Naevia knows the separation is coming like a dreaded execution.  
  
It's her fault, she knows. Ashur, the Roman men who took advantage of her, the sexual torture from the mines—it never disappeared from memory. At night, when the sky was at its darkest, she would break into sweat and awaken with tears in her eyes and heart beating with such intensity and fear that she had to hold her chest just to keep herself from falling apart. The feeling of rough hands and foul breathe against her skin would fade as she closed her eyes and just _breathed_. Then, after a few moments had passed, she would feel Crixus very awake and very quiet next to her; close enough for her to feel his assurance. Silence would pass before he would open his mouth, his voice concerned and raspy from sleep. "Are you well?"  
  
She would take a few breaths before answering, her smile weak and voice holding back the trembling. "Yes. I'll be fine." It was always a lie. He would know it too yet open his arms to her anyway, his smile small and comforting, giving her the choice her nightmares took away from her. She accepted the wordless offer leaning on his solid body and feeling his thick arms encircle her slim, shivering frame. His coarse hand rubbed her back in soothing circles and his chin rested on the top of her head. That was how she would fall asleep, in comfort and security with her cheek pressed against his naked chest.  
  
But as of late... it stopped when her hair length reached past her collarbone.  
  
He didn't offer his nightly embraces anymore.  
  
Naevia understood. Of course the tender kisses and the caresses aren't enough to satiate a man's primal need. It hurts not giving that to him—like the tip of a sword is slowly plunging in her bosom. Back in the ludus, the intimacy was the only gift they could exchange and, now, even that was ripped away. The foundation of their relationship had changed and it was her fault. She couldn't let go of the past and he is moving forward. It's only right he leaves her behind.  
  
But it hurts.  
  
Crixus is a stubborn man. Ideas that take ahold of his mind are not easily moved and the gods themselves would find it pointless to try to sway him. She supposed his determination was what she fell in love with. His stubborn and determined nature, a driving force for his defiance, bringing them together and it's what he believed would keep them together still. At least, he had in the beginning.  
  
She can't leave the memories behind and perhaps he's sick of being reminded of his guilt. She knew his patient and stubborn love would eventually corrode. She really did understand if he wanted someone else who wasn't as broken. Killing Ashur—chopping the head off the beast—was only a temporary relief and vanquished her feeling of helplessness, but it didn't remove the scars left in her body or mind.  
  
It is one day when Naevia sees Crixus talking to a woman in hushed tones, did she realize the knowledge didn't prepare her for the pain; the sharp, twisted pain inside. Its sudden cruelty makes her pause with the bucket of drinkable water in hand as the unnatural ache travels to her throat and weakens her arms. The woman had long chestnut hair and a slim body. The face was hidden behind her brown curls and Crixus looked... different. Not unpleasantly so, almost as if he's trying his best to seem harmless.  
  
Naevia can't taste her mouth. It felt like it held the dry, summer winds of Capua. She returns to her task without a second thought, not looking back. No, he talking to an unfamiliar woman doesn't mean he desires her touch, but the ache doesn't go away. She's feels poisoned, a burning toxin in the process of shutting down her insides and leaving a trail of agony.  
  
She slows down during the tenure of the morning until midday when Nasir advises her to rest in her tent. She thinks about it, imagining lying on her cot until supper with thoughts of her lover being intimate with a beautiful stranger with chestnut hair; soft, fair skin against tanned, hard muscles; his mouth against pink, plush ones; his body shaking with pleasure far overdue. She shakes her head and tells herself she's alright.  
  
She busies herself with chores and training instead. She's focused, too much to work up an appetite with the exception of a bit of hard bread and water. She tries to forget the growing ache in her belly; tries to banish terrible thoughts from mind.  
  
That night, Crixus returns to their tent, tired, and he looks at her strangely after they share a slow, chaste kiss. "Naevia."  
  
Her eyes flutter open to meet his steady gaze in reply.  
  
"What troubles thoughts?"  
  
He knows her well. Too well. He completes her in so many ways and it will be nothing short of unbearable to watch him walk away, this she realizes with sorrow. "It is nothing. I'm tired is all."  
  
He takes her hand in his and smiles that kind, gentle smile meant only for her and she wants to cry because she knows he'll show it to someone else soon. "Rest. I will be here when you awaken." To seal his promise, he gives her another tender kiss.  
  
Later in the night, when Naevia briskly wakes up from a dream she doesn't quite remember, he's not there, not there with open arms and words of comfort with his solid, secure arms. It's just her and the coldness and she _remembers_ why.  
  
It's her fault he's not here. She pushed him away, led him into the arms of another.  
  
She condemned herself to a life of loneliness. Her tears are warm and silent in the darkness.

 

Naevia wakes back up again to the sound of her name and the noise of the rebels in the background outside. Rays of sun seeped through the tent. Did she oversleep? Her gaze immediately goes to Crixus, sitting by her side. He looks tired again and... nervous? She blinks. "Crixus? Apologies, I overslept—"  
  
"None needed," he interrupts gently, picking up the plate of assorted fruit as she sits up, stifling a yawn. "The day is ours."  
  
She doesn't move. Doesn't dare hope, believe. "Your meaning is lost to me."  
  
"No one is to bother us with work. The day belongs to _us_." His voice accentuates the 'us' like it's a precious gem. A dull thud beats where her heart is supposed to be. He lifts a wrapped bundle she didn't notice was there. "I spent...the better part of the previous night to search for gifts that would brighten spirits." He unwraps the gifts and lifts—  
  
—a dress. A simple, cerulean dress. The sides had woven colorful beads. She swallows, staring at her gift. What could she say without sounding like a fool?  
  
Crixus drops his hesitant smile. "You do not find it to your liking?"  
  
"No. _No_. I love it so," she takes it from him and slowly, calmly, skims her fingers past the fabric. Whatever sleep held her was gone and replaced by hope. She smiles, a heavy burden lifted from her shoulders. "It's beautiful."  
  
He sighs in relief. "Hearing such words bring relief to my heart. I had to exchange words with a seamstress for the right dress best suited for you." Her breath hitched, flashing back to previous day. Oh. He must mean... the mature woman with chestnut hair; asking for her advice, not her body. Her face flushed at the misunderstanding.  
  
"As does your gesture of kindness. I was...afraid."  
  
He's quiet now, studying her expression. She continues, smoothing the wrinkles on her new clothes. No turning back. "I feared my reluctance to... make love to you has made you tire of me. Avoid me even."  
  
" _Never_." His reply is swift, so fierce and hard, Naevia has to return his gaze. He cups her cheeks with his padded hands, looking into her light, watery brown eyes with those stubborn, passionate irises of his. "I bring you distance to avoid suffocation. I worry," he wipes the tears that run down her face with his thumb, "my touch brings back haunted memories. Being away from you pains me more than any wound from a sword."  
  
"Crixus," she breathes his name like a prayer.  
  
"I told you once you are my heart and I would never doubt it's beating again. I ask you do the same, Naevia. It will be as it once was."  
  
"It cannot," she whispers, softly, trembling. "I've felt us change from what we were." That part, at least, wasn't her imagination.  
  
He pauses, considering his response. He must have sensed it as well, but his dark eyes never lose the fire. "Then let us embrace it and forge new beginnings." He hugs her tightly and she's inhales his scent knowing he was hers and she was his, and neither gods nor the Romans can take that away.  
  
She was wrong. It wasn't change that was inevitable—but the forging of a stronger bond.


End file.
